(Note: I wrote this last night, but that virus jacked our computer so I couldn't cut and paste or send email or anything. I had to save this to disk for christ's sake. Who does that? Anyway, here it is.)

Alright, look. I was going to write and write and write about my fucking INSANE day today, but, uh, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is on so I�m going to write during the commercials. I�m sure you understand that reality television is more important than you knowing about my fucking INSANE day. Okay. I�m just explaining this in case my entry seems disjointed and all.

So, interview. It went really well, despite the fact that I was left waiting for 30 minutes. I think 30 minutes pushing it, but beggars can�t be choosers. It did, however, create an inner debate on how much time is too much time to be left waiting when you�re on an interview. How long before you get up and walk out? How bad do you need the job? When does your self-worth become more important than the job? I decided my breaking point happens between 45-60 minutes, depending on the job and how bad I want it.

Anyway. The interview went really well and I�ve been asked back for a second interview, probably on Thursday. Yay! I�m really hoping this comes through for me because the whole job interview thing sucks ass. Especially the �do you have any questions?� part. I never, ever have any questions right after the interview because my brain is always frozen with the fear that I�ll say something incredibly stupid. I need to think of some questions to ask for the second meeting. Do you know any good ones?

So, I got to work late and I�m already behind and I�m too distracted to really do anything about catching up. Plus, the idea of escaping the evils of the loan center makes everything a little more unbearable. It�s harder to care when, in my mind, I�m already halfway out the door.

In loan center news, my new Work Friend spent Monday listening peacefully to her walkman as she worked, a brilliant idea that I�d entertained, but figured would be smacked down, so what�s the point. Sure enough, first thing this morning, Boss Lady told her the Walkman was banned. Doesn�t that figure? (But note: 10 points to Work Friend for asking if cow bells were banned too. Snap!)

The cow bells. God, how I hate them. Work Friend and I have been plotting ways to stay late enough to steal each and every cow bell. It would take intense planning, but, damn, it would be worth it. Can you imagine the uproar when the drones, desiring a �spirit� boost, reach for the bell and find it gone? Just�gone? What would they do? Perhaps they�d create prayer circles and take comfort in the fact that they�re all wearing the requisite high-waisted jeans and white Keds. Ha. I'm going straight to hell.

Anyway, my day got progressively more head-explodingly stressful when I got a voicemail from the marketing company that fucked me. Remember this? They had me work a day, then never called and instead ran a new job ad? Yeah, someone from that company (who, I might add, was NOT part of the staff of three when I interviewed two months ago) called and left a message asking me for a second interview. The fuck? No, seriously, THE FUCK? I wanted to call and tell them where they could put that interview, but I shouldn�t burn all my bridges. I haven�t decided quite what to do about this yet. I�m pretty certain I don�t want to work there.

Then somehow during the day, an idea of Kenny�s and I became a sort of reality. See, there�s this house for sale across from Noah�s new house and we looked at it from the outside last weekend. Then today, I sort of made an appointment for us to look at it, which meanings calling a loan person and getting pre-approved, which means we�re starting the holy-shit-this-is-major process of possibly being home owners. We�re not sure about this house we�re looking at, but it�s all a learning experience and really, we�re not in any huge hurry. It�s scary, though. Scary good, but still scary.

Change! So much change! I�m an excellent driver. I like to drive slow on the driveway.

Milton Bonus!

Ah Milton. He never ceases to amuse:

To: Milton
From: Adrien
Subject: File #1234567

Hi, I was assigned this loan to set up for another processor, but it looks like it�s yours and you�re already working on it. Do I need to do anything aside from crossing it off my list? Let me know� -Adrien

To: Adrien
From: Milton
Subject: Re. File #1234567

no

0 chatty monkeys